


Rules of Engagement

by Artemis1000



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Power Imbalance, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: Cassian knows there are good reasons why other militaries wouldn't permit this fraternization.They live a balancing act between lovers and commanding officer and subordinate - on the edge of self-destruction every single day, but they are Rebel Intelligence and balancing acts are what they do best.





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celeste9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/gifts).



There were rules to their relationship and the first rule was that they didn’t call it a relationship. Thus, Cassian preferred to think of it as their _arrangement_.

Davits liked to call it an _association_ , which Cassian found unpleasantly technical even by their standards but that was something to be expected from Davits Draven. Nobody could accuse the man of making General by being overly sentimental.

Neither of these terms could adequately define the bone-deep weariness that settled over Cassian when he stood in front of his superior officer, his face emotionless as he listened to the precise, ruthless analysis of every mistake he had made during the disaster that was his last mission. It wasn’t a physical tiredness, not even the emotional numbness that always came after the kill, or the more unsettling emptiness that lingered after undercover missions and took longer to shake with each of them.

There were rules to their relationship and while it wasn’t the first one on the list, the single most important rule was to keep their personal and professional lives separate.

There were good reasons why a proper military hierarchy would have rules against fraternization. Cassian felt these reasons now as he listened and stood still and closed himself off to the part of him that was aching and wounded and yearned to see his lover, not the ruthless superior who kept sending him out on missions which would either get his body killed fast or slowly kill his soul.

“Yes, sir,” he said, finally realizing that Davits’s silence had lasted too long. He strove and succeeded not to cringe away from the sharpness in his eyes – after all, Davits had seen to him being trained better than that. “These mistakes will not be repeated.”

“I would hope so.” There was no regard in his eyes when he sized Cassian up, nothing but the critical scrutiny with which a sniper would regard his trustiest rifle. “This unit can’t afford weak links, Andor. See that you don’t become one.”

A dozen angry, hurt defenses bubbled up in Cassian’s throat, all of them clamoring to make themselves heard. Davits would listen, he would have to listen, if only Cassian got an opportunity to explain…

Davits, Cassian’s lover, was obliged to listen. General Draven didn’t care for excuses and apologies, he cared only for results – and Captain Andor had failed to deliver.

Cassian exhaled. “Yes, sir.” The next time he inhaled, the General’s office felt too small. Or maybe it was his throat that felt too tight.

 

Cassian let himself in.

If Davits cared to examine the evidence as an intelligence agent would, Cassian was certain he would come to the conclusion that it didn’t point towards an _association_. For this very reason, they were careful to avoid all careful examinations.

He let himself in and sank onto the overstuffed leather couch, one of those perks that rank ensured even in the relatively egalitarian Rebel Alliance.

So he sank onto the couch, one arm on the armrest, his forehead cradled against his hand. Eyes squeezed shut.

There was a faint fragrance of orchids in the room. Davits took good care of the flower, though he had professionally disapproved of gift shopping during an assignment. Their anniversary had been worth the disapproval.

Slowly, Cassian felt like he could breathe again.

He kept his eyes shut and counted the seconds between breaths just like he would when he had his eye pressed to the scope of his rifle.

He heard the door open and kept his eyes shut. He heard the door close and still didn’t move. Footsteps approaching, then pausing just in arm’s reach of the couch, and he remained as still as a statue.

He could sense the tension, the uncertainty in the silence – and still, Cassian didn’t budge.

“You are angry with me.” Davits's voice held no emotion. Unlike it did in the office, it didn’t make him sound cold now, just as tired as Cassian had felt when he had reported to him.

Cassian’s eyes squeezed shut a little tighter. It was the only sign of weakness he permitted himself. After all, he had been trained well. “There is no reason to be angry. My commanding officer acted within the parameters of what is expected of him to ensure the functionality of Operations.”

“You are furious.”

Although he still gave no outward sign of it, Cassian considered his assumption. It took barely a thought to dismiss it. He had been furious while he was being berated but he wasn’t anymore. It wasn’t fury that made him feel raw and wounded, like even the very clothes he wore were grating against his skin. He pulled his hand away and looked into Davits’s face, though he remained careful to avoid his eyes. He wouldn’t let it come to an accusation of childishness, he would have to concur with that one. “I’m not.”

Davits didn’t respond and Cassian wondered briefly if he was deciding that it wasn’t worth the trouble right now. Like so often before, he wondered when the day would come on which one of them decided it wasn’t worth the trouble at all.

Cassian sighed. He scratched at his stubble and leaned back, forcingly opening his own body language, forcibly wrenching himself out of the soothing emptiness.

Because that day wouldn’t, couldn’t come. Neither of them considered failure an acceptable outcome for any mission. That didn’t mean it would be easy. Nothing had ever indicated it would be easy. There were, after all, reasons why a proper military wouldn’t permit their fraternization.

“I was… hurt. My boss doesn’t listen to me very well.”

There was tightness in Davits' face, the same tightness Cassian knew from when he had been forcing himself to swallow a dozen justifications. It was funny, he was worse at hiding his feelings than Cassian was – Davits had been out of the field for too long.

“I’m glad you made it back.” Finally, there it was, a hint of warmth in his voice though his face remained cool.

Cassian met his eyes and then he dropped his gaze – to the rank pin on Davits' uniform jacket, so similar to the one he wore on his own chest, identical except for the ranks they denoted. Then down to where their arms almost brushed – their uniforms not the same but well-matched in color.

Slowly, he no longer had to force his body language to remain open. His arm brushed against Davits’s before he draped it over the back of the couch, hand casually on his shoulder.

“For a while, I thought I wouldn’t make it. There was this…” He squeezed his eyes shut again. “I was thinking too much for a moment and _I know better_ but at that moment… and then it just…”

He told the same story he had given in the debriefing. This time, his voice shook with emotion, there were gaps and pauses and raspy breaths and explanations that had stank too much of excuses to bring them up in the debriefing.

Davits' fingers ran soothingly over the back of his neck whenever he stalled. He didn’t prod but quietly encouraged the words that needed just a tiny push to break free whenever the flow of words stalled. He had always been an excellent interrogator.

And so Cassian spoke and this time, Davits listened.


End file.
